


It’s Not The Chase That I Love, But Me Following You

by coloursflyaway



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Brotherly Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8478019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: Dick has known Damian loves him for years, he’s only waiting for his little brother to tell him.Or: Five times Dick had to tell Damian that Damian loved him, and one time Damian told him himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fairly certain that that second sentence of the summary was more difficult to get right then the entire rest of this fic.

1.

„Grayson.“  
Dick looks up at the mention of his name, sees his newest, littlest brother standing in the doorway, his small face scrunched up in an uncommon show of emotion. He sets down his phone, ignoring that the little yellow car he is supposed to steer crashes into a wall, going up in flames, in favour of looking at Damian, his partner, his brother, his Robin.  
“What’s up, Little D?”, he asks, puts on a smile whose brightness might be a bit of a lie, because Dick is tired, sore, still not used to wearing Bruce’s cowl and cape. But Damian isn’t to blame for any of that, he’s just a child, and while a violent and infuriating one, a good one too.  
“There is a problem”, Damian tells him, steps closer, but not close enough to be considered normal. His voice is steady, collected, and Dick wonders if there is ever going to be a time when that will not creep him out; a ten-year-old with the voice of an adult man.  
“A problem? What kind?”

There is a moment in which Damian looks conflicted, but it’s over within the blink of an eye, and Damian clasps his hands together behind his back, tells Dick, “It appears that I am no longer indifferent to you.”  
He says it with the gravest of voices, like imparting a damning secret, and for a second, Dick’s brain has problems seeing the sense behind those words, feels like he should worry; when it finally does, he can’t keep his lips from curling up into a smile, a real one this time. His heart fills up with love for this tiny, tortured boy in front of him, who is trying his best not to thaw, and yet can’t stop himself.  
If he could without risking more than just a bloody nose, Dick would get up and hug Damian, hold him close to make up for all the times that Talia didn’t give him the affection the boy deserved. But he knows Damian, so Dick just stays where he is, enjoys the warmth of the affection spreading through his chest.

“Aw, I always knew that deep down, you loved me, Dami”, he answers, and Dick would never have thought it possible, but Damian is blushing, a hint of red and pink dusting his cheeks.  
“Absolutely not! That is preposterous, why ever would you say something as ridiculous as this, Grayson, I should-“  
He could leave the boy raving on, complaining, but Dick doesn’t, instead picks up his phone to salvage as much as possible from his pixelated, crashed car, and throws Damian a wink before looking back at the little screen.  
“Don’t worry, Little D. I love you too.”

 

2.

The boy next to him huffs, and although Dick knows he is walking on a thin line here, he can’t help but grin; usually, there is something amusing about Damian being annoyed by everyday problems.  
“I still have no idea why I agreed to help you with this”, his little brother grumbles, puts down the bags of groceries while Dick fumbles for his keys.  
“That’s easy”, he tells Damian, just looks down to grin at him for a second, then busies himself with patting down his pockets once more. “You love me.”  
“Oh, _shut up_.”

 

3.

There is a gash going down his chest, neatly cutting the blue bird in the middle of it into two pieces, and it’s ridiculous, but Dick cannot stop thinking about how much of a bitch this is going to be to fix. It’s probably the drugs, which is not a very comforting thought, so Dick tries not to think at all, focusses on Damian, because that has been the easiest thing to do for several month now.  
His little brother has grown up, at first without Dick noticing and then so quickly that it was impossible to miss, but there is still something of that angry little boy still left in his movements, the controlled violence, the love Damian still holds for fighting. It’s beautiful in its own way, Dick thinks, and remembers he is trying not to think at all.

His little brother kicks the woman who darted Dick in the face, his boot crushing at least her nose and her cheekbone, and it’s a bit more satisfying than it should be, but Damian doesn’t stop. The woman stumbles back and Damian follows as soon as both of his feet are firmly on the ground again, punches her teeth in, one, two, three hits, and she’s falling. She doesn’t get up anymore.  
Damian kicks her one last time anyway, twirls and plants his fist in the crook of the next goon’s neck, first knocks him back, and then, with the next of his punches, out. Two more try to get to him, and fail, and Dick is mesmerised, even though he might be bleeding out.

Against all rules and training, Damian doesn’t take his time to check if the men and women he just knocked unconscious will stay that way, but rushes over at Dick; it’s good that he has decided not to think, otherwise he would have to examine the fluttering, pulse-quickening affection blossoming in his chest.  
Although the fight is over, Damian still moves like he is prepared to kill or die, all quiet precision, and sprawled on the floor like he is, Dick notices just how tall Damian has grown for what seems like the first time.  
“’Lo, Little D”, he mumbles, gives Damian a lopsided grin. “Thanks for the help. I ‘preciate it.”  
For some bizarre reason, Dick expects a smile in return, one he doesn’t get. Instead, Damian crouches down next to him, using gloved fingers to rip Dick’s poor suit into even more pieces, the bird finally beyond repair.

“It’s not too bad”, Damian mutters, and it might be the drugs which lead Dick to believe that his fingertips linger on his skin, it might not. “Just a shallow cut. One which you should have avoided easily, Nightwing, and would have, if you hadn’t let them dart you.”  
“Believe me, if I could’ve just avoided it, I would’ve”, Dick drawls, his tongue and lips heavy, his brain still fuzzy and fixed on Damian’s skin almost glowing in the lights of the city, the moon.  
Gentle fingers press something against the gash on his chest, gauze, or maybe just a piece of Dick’s own uniform; he cannot bring himself to tear his gaze away from Damian long enough to look.  
“I don’t know why I put up with you”, Damian grumbles, but there is a teasing, fond tone to his voice, which causes that strange tightness in Dick’s chest and stomach to grow even more annoyingly distracting.  
“I do”, he mutters, hisses when Damian presses down a bit too hard, maybe as punishment. “It’s because you love me.”

There is no answer when Dick expects a refusal, delivered swiftly, harshly, instead Damian just continues applying pressure to the wound on Dick’s chest for another few, long seconds. He cannot see his brother’s eyes like this, but he wishes he could, because not thinking and the drugs make reading Damian harder.  
“Maybe”, the other finally answers, and his voice is soft and just a bit teasing, something Dick will remember for a long time to come, he’s sure.  
This time, when his insides start to flutter, they don’t stop.

 

4.

Night has come and gone, and although Dick isn’t always grateful when their patrol ends, he is today. It’s been a long day and a longer night, a long week before that, and right now, a shower and a few hours of well-deserved sleep sound more than tempting.  
Tim is already back at the cave when he arrives, waving at Dick while towelling off his still-damp hair. He doesn’t expect an answer, or at least doesn’t seem put off when he doesn’t get more than a tired smile, and sometimes, Dick wonders just how much he would have missed the camaraderie between him and his siblings if his parents had never died.

Peeling the suit off takes far longer than it should, and although it makes his muscles ache in a less than pleasant way, the spray of hot water makes it more than worth it when Dick steps into the shower, taking a second to just enjoy the warmth.  
As much as he loves his life as a vigilante, as much as he loves patrol, he loves moments like this just as well, back at the cave and knowing that he has done something good that night, saved someone. And he has, they have, and that makes everything worthwhile.

 

When he comes back to the cave, dressed in his softest sweatpants and an old hoodie, Bruce and Damian have returned, Robin grumbling and Batman rushing off to do whatever it is Bruce does to relax. It happens more often than not nowadays, not the fierce, violent arguments they used to have, but quieter differences of opinion, which make Dick wonder just how long it’ll take until Damian’s Robin suit will join his in a glass display.  
He’d understand, after all, Damian is nineteen by now, all grown up, and more than ready to be someone on his own, not just Batman’s violent shadow.

“Everything alright, little D?”, he asks, walks over to where his baby brother is still scowling, untying his boots. The domino is still covering his eyes, but he knows Damian well enough to notice his expression softening, the frustration slowly vanishing. “Tough night?”  
“Yes”, Damian confesses, and although it’s been years, Dick is still so incredibly proud of how far Damian has gotten, talking about his feelings, allowing others in. Allowing Dick in. “Father and I had another disagreement.”  
He straightens, his laces of his boots half undone, and it might be the big brother in him that makes Dick kneel down, reaching out to finish what Damian started.

The other’s mouth goes slack for half a second, almost unnoticeable, but Dick knows his most beloved brother better than anyone, can even make out the hint of a blush on tanned cheeks. His expression is still relaxed, but Damian licks his lips, swallows, and Dick allows himself a little smile and a wink before he goes on untying the other’s boots. He has only done this a handful of times, usually when Damian was drugged, hurt, or just too tired to move, but he works swiftly, tugging off one boot, then another, even allowing his fingertips to brush over the other’s ankle, down over the arch of his foot.  
When Dick looks up again, the blush is more noticeable on Damian’s cheeks, and Tim, standing close by, is rolling his eyes so hard Dick almost fears for his mental health.

“There, all done, little prince”, Dick tells Damian anyway, ignores Tim miming gagging, before he leaves; instead he focusses on his littlest brother’s pretty pink lips, his tongue darting out to wet them again.  
“That was unnecessary, Grayson”, Damian tells him, but it takes him a second too long, just like it usually does.  
“Maybe”, Dick concedes, smiles widely as he watches the other peel off his mask, revealing blue eyes with wide-blown pupils. “But even a highly trained assassin like yourself deserves to be spoilt a little bit from time to time.”  
“You are an idiot.” Damian looks down at him, and one eyebrow raised; hardly anyone else would notice, but he sounds fond, teasing. In love.  
“I know”, Dick admits happily, gets back up so he can look down at Damian instead, make out the flecks of green in his blue eyes.  
“Let me guess, that doesn’t faze you the slightest.”

Sometimes, Dick wonders how there can still be people calling Damian heartless, cold, unfeeling, when right now, plain as day, Dick can see every emotion spelt out on Damian’s face, in his eyes.  
“Not at all”, he tells the other, reaches up to ruffle Damian’s hair, letting his hand rest on the other’s shoulder for a bit longer. “Because you love me anyway.”  
Damian blushes and Dick smiles; he doesn’t tell the other the rest. Damian will have to figure that out himself.

 

5.

It’s just past midnight when there is a knock at the door. Dick is already dressed in sweatpants and a loose shirt, ready to watch a bit of TV and then call it a night, because he’ll need his strength for all the things he and Damian have planned for tomorrow, but he gets up without a second thought anyway. Bruce would have called, so he’s not too worried, but a visitor at this time of night still doesn’t seem like a good sign.

There is no one he expects to find behind the door, but when it’s Damian, cheeks pink and lips bitten almost red, Dick is still surprised.  
“Little D”, he greets, although even he can hear the questioning tone of his voice. “Or rather, birthday boy, I suppose. What’s up?”  
“Grayson”, Damian starts, but stops only a second afterwards, correcting himself. “Richard.”  
He takes a deep breath and Dick doesn’t know what to expect, a scolding or just Damian asking if he can stay the night; his brother looks serious, but then again, Damian does that a lot. And Dick would ask, but Damian doesn’t give him a chance to, just continues.

“We have known each other for a long time – more than half my life, in fact – and you must know that I have an unusual amount of respect for you and your abilities. And while this still holds true, I have noticed – changes in my feelings for you over the last months.”  
He’s speaking slowly, but without stopping once, like this is a speech he has prepared for weeks at least, and Dick has expected this day to come, has been waiting for it                                       even, but the realisation what Damian is talking about still knocks the air from his lungs, leaves his mind spinning. Because he has known that Damian is in love with him for years, has reciprocated his little brother’s feelings for almost as long, and yet, the thought of finally getting what he has been waiting for is almost impossible to comprehend.

“While I have considered you the person I was closest to for several years, I have found that my feelings have surpassed fraternal admiration and turned into something of a more – of a romantic kind.” By now, Damian’s cheeks are not pink anymore, but bright red, but he goes on anyway, voice steady and collected; Dick can’t help but be impressed, even while the initial shock wears off, is replaced by a kind of giddiness he has never known before. “I know that someone with your experience will consider this nothing but an adolescent crush, but I have spent a long time considering this and can tell you that it has long surpassed that- “  
“Are you calling me old, Dami?”

It is clear that the other hasn’t expected to be interrupted, because the quick, teasing question makes Damian stop, glance up at Dick like he has lost his mind somewhere along the way.   
“What? Have you been listening to me? I’m trying to tell you…”  
His voice trails off, like Damian still cannot make himself say the words, so Dick helps him with it, speaks the words he has become so familiar with.  
“…that you love me.” Dick puts as much fondness, understanding as he can in his voice, trying to let Damian know that what he feels is mutual. “I know, little prince. I have for years.”

It doesn’t work. Damian’s face crumbles, falls, like someone has turned off the lights that always made those blue eyes of his shine so brightly, and Dick wants to say something but is too late anyway.  
“I – I see. In that case, I assume there is no need for me to go on, as you must have made your decision long ago. I hope this will not change the relationship we –“  
“Dami.” It’s rude to interrupt, Alfred has reminded Dick of that often enough that he can almost hear the older man speaking at the back of his mind, but Dick cannot let Damian go on, not when he has gotten everything so, so wrong. “Hold on, hold on. Just because I’ve known it doesn’t mean I wasn’t waiting for you to tell me anyway.”

It takes a bit, but Dick hasn’t expected anything else; the light gradually returns to Damian’s eyes, intensifying until he’s glowing with it, hope and love and the same happiness that is making Dick feel lighter than air tinting the smile that is appearing on his lips.  
Damian lowers his gaze for a second, clasps his hands behind his back and it takes Dick a moment to realise that his little brother is still nervous, that this is his way of showing it.  
“Does that mean that my feelings might not be unwanted?”, he asks, looks up at Dick through dark lashes, and even if he wasn’t desperately in love with the young man in front of him already, Dick knows he would be falling now.  
“Definitely not.”

There is nothing more to say, not when Damian is smiling and Dick outright beaming, when Damian looks so happy and Dick feels like he is about to burst; they stay like this for a few seconds, minutes, taking the sight of each other in. At least until Dick realises where they are, that Damian is still standing in his doorway.  
“On another note, would you like to come in so we can discuss the rest of our love life in privacy?”, Dick asks, trying for a teasing tone but failing.  
“I would like that.”  
Damian takes a step towards him, and Dick doesn’t move, because being closer to the other feels too good, too right to do so. And Damian seems to agree, because he takes another step, only stops when they are almost touching, his little brother’s breath warm on Dick’s lips.  
“Hi”, he mutters, because Tim is right and he is a dork, because it’s hard to concentrate on words when Damian is right there and Dick has waited for this for so long. “We could postpone going inside a bit longer too, too.”

This time, he doesn’t get an answer, just a hint of warning – a glint in Damian’s eyes, a sudden sharpness to his smile – and then the other leans in, catches Dick’s lips in a kiss that isn’t perfect, and yet feels unlike any other Dick has ever shared with someone.  
His hand comes up to cup Damian’s cheek, feeling the slightest bit of stubble against his palm as he tilts the other’s face so he can lick into Damian’s mouth, deepening the kiss. Damian gives back as good as he is getting, nibbles on Dick’s bottom lip, sucks on it until Dick shivers, breaks away breathless and knowing that his cheeks must be just as red as his brother’s now.

They stay close anyway, Dick’s thumb still stroking the other’s cheek and Damian smiling in a way he has never seen before, and it’s only when Dick remembers the harsh reality of nosy neighbours that he is willing to break this blissful silence.  
“Best birthday ever, I hope”, he says softly, and Damian groans, just like he knew the other would.  
“You are the worst, Dick Grayson”, Damian tells him, and Dick doesn’t even try to hide the delighted smile tugging on his lips at the mention of his chosen name.  
“I’m just glad that you love me then, little prince. Because I love you too.”

 

+1

“I never even got to tell you”, Damian suddenly says, still half against Dick’s lips. He sits up and Dick follows, confused and still dazed from the lazy kisses they have shared, from Damian’s hands tentatively mapping out his chest.  
“Tell me what?”, he asks, and almost has to laugh when Damian looks at him like he can’t believe what he is hearing. It seems that that old saying is true, some things never change.  
“What I came here to tell you, of course. What I wanted to confess.”  
“Well, it’s not too late for that”, Dick replies, and it must have been the right thing to say this time, because Damian smiles at him in a way Dick will need a lifetime to get used to, bright and loving.

He turns, and Dick turns with him so that they are face to face, the light from his cheap IKEA lamp making Damian glow golden, the small couch making sure that there are hardly more than a few inches between them, that their thighs are still pressed against each other.  
“Richard John Grayson”, he starts, and Dick can feel his heart speed up; he knows what is about to come and yet it doesn’t diminish the effect the slightest.  Damian must feel the same, because his breath is coming faster, his cheeks are turning pink once more. “I love you. With all my heart.”  
The smile on his face is threatening to split Dick’s face in two, so he leans in and presses his lips to Damian’s, a sweet, almost-chaste kiss; when he gives his answer, he whispers it against the other’s lips, into his skin.  
“And I love you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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